The GLOW
by Leonaria Dragonbane
Summary: Cross from Comic Verse.Birdy is dead and Victor finds another source of the GLOW. WARNING MATURE DO NOT READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE MATURE CONTENT. RAPE AND VIOLENCE WARNING..AGAIN CLEAR WARNING THIS IS VICTOR CREED AT HIS BEST, OR IS THAT WORST? R
1. Chapter 1

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff. I am stressing this very clearly _**IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE MATURE VICTOR CREED CONTENT PLEASE DON'T READ**_

AGAIN Last warning, **IF you can't handle MATURE content DO NOT READ**

**A/N Lady Mage - I am going to try this...HOPE people heed the warnings. **

He was watching the man enter his apartment building. Soon, this was an easy mark, quick money, and he didn't even have to feel guilty for killing him after what he watched tonight. He was a mutant killer; he got his kicks off raping and killing mutant girls, the younger the better. It wasn't like Creed was much better, a frail was a frail to him, and if they didn't survive his needs, well fuck 'em, literally. It had been a show, that was for sure, this guy liked blood almost as much as he did, and killing him would be fun. It was always fun to take down another predator, prove who was king of the jungle, he grinned at that.

He waited, the lights came on, he watched him move around, get settled in. After a night like his, he would be getting really sleepy soon, sleepy was good, he planned on taking him out in his sleep, wake him up to his own blood, maybe cut his manhood off first, and shove it down his throat, there was a thought. He was trying to decide where to start on the mark when he felt it. The bloodlust left his brain; he was calm, peaceful for just a second, and then panic, anger, pain, fear. He didn't know why he did it, but he climbed the building behind him and ran eight blocks across the rooftops, looking for it, somehow he knew right where to go.

There were ten of them, hunched over something on the ground in the alley. Street thugs, not even decent ones, just wannabes, he saw a flash of something, something white, and soft, and bloody. Then he heard her scream, felt her scream. He dropped down right into the middle of them, scattering them for a second. That was all he needed. Her hair was black with blood, bits of color coming through, not enough to really tell. Her body was bruised, her clothing torn, but not off, and he didn't smell any of them inside her yet. He tilted his head to one side, she looked up at him, her eyes dilating and then rolling up into her head. She passed out. He gave the three punks still standing there his best 'get the hell out' grin, and they did. He lifted her up, throwing her over his shoulder.

He didn't know why, but he had to protect her, get her safe, for now. He went back to the mark's building, took off his fur covered duster, and pulled some zip ties out of the pocket. He tied her hands behind her back, her feet together, and with a tug at the bottom of his T shirt, made a gag for her mouth. No one would hear her up here on the roof if she did manage to make any noise around it; he wrapped her in his duster so she wouldn't get cold, and so she wouldn't be seen in the shadows, and climbed down the building. He slipped into the window, across to the chair. The man was snoring, why did they always snore? He couldn't remember a mark that didn't snore. This was going to be pleasant. First, well shit he left his duster on the roof, fine messy and noisy it would be. He put one hand on the man's throat, waking him and effectively silencing him in the same movement. He just grinned down at him.

"Marko says hi." He whispered, and he reached with his other hand for the man's crotch and grabbed, claws digging in, cutting tendons, flesh, and cloth. He brought his hand up, a glob of flesh and blood soaked cloth dripping in it. His other hand pressed down, strangling the scream in his throat.

"No noise, don't want to wake your nice neighbors." He shoved the glob of flesh into the man's open mouth. He went back in, pulling his intestines out of the wound, he wrapped them around the man's throat, constricting his vocal chords without cutting off all air, he wanted him awake, aware, and to feel ever inch of pain he was going to give him before he allowed him to die.

He stepped back, licking his fingers, the sweet taste of blood driving him to do more. He ran one claw around the man's face, in a circle, and slowly started to peel the skin back, he left it on, just peeled back on the edges, he wanted them to recognize him. Now it was time to enjoy himself. He slipped a claw under the bottom rib, and slowly, careful not to puncture a lung yet, cut his chest wide open. His heart was beating fast; he could smell the fear, the blood, the pain, it was such a rush. He reached in, gently and pulled his beating heart out of his chest.

"Say goodnight, Gracie." He always liked that line; he crushed his heart in his hand, and watched him go limp. Victor snapped his head back and forth, popping his neck. Job well done and dessert was waiting on the roof. He slipped out the window, and back to the rooftop. She was still out cold, perfect. He could get her back to the house. He unwrapped the duster, and threw her over his shoulder. He sprinted along the roofline, finally slipping down into the alley behind the parking lot. He slipped into the lot, popped the back of the SUV and laid her down. He grabbed the wipes and clean shirt and wiped himself up, changing so that the attendant wouldn't notice the blood. He didn't want to be seen anywhere near that alley, or the apartment.

His associates would swear, under pain of death, that he had been with them all night, and have the cash to prove he was a bad poker player. He drove out of the lot, arguing with the attendant and acting a little drunk. He glanced back every now and then to make sure she was still out. The drive home was quiet, but he could feel the buzz just under his skin. He needed the Glow again, and soon. A nice Glow, some good sex, some sleep, he might actually feel, well almost human tomorrow.

He pulled into the driveway. You'd never think he lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, houses a good distance away from each other, and yet close enough that he had to pull into the garage, so that no one would see him unload her. He slung her over his shoulder and up to the guest room, the one with the blacked out windows that he told his neighbors was for his photography hobby, the one with no handle on the inside of the door.

He pulled back the comforter and top sheet, and laid her down on the bed. Her tattered and dirty clothing a stark contrast to the clean white sheet, he reached out and ripped the blouse off of her body. She moaned in pain, and he saw the gashes on her pale flesh from their hands, he would have to do something about those, if he planned on keeping her. The skirt was next, revealing they hadn't gotten very far, her underwear were still in place…rip. That was better.

He stepped back and looked at her naked body, not bad, he'd had better, and it wasn't her body he was after anyway, it was the Glow. He tilted his head to one side. That gash on her side was deep; he was going to have to do something about it. He slipped up the bed, covering her naked body with his clothed one. He bent his head, and sniffed the wound. Not infected but better clean it. His tongue lapped along the cut, digging in deep, making sure there was nothing inside to cause infection. He felt her squirm and start under him. Her movement was enough to wake up the tingle just under his skin…blood and sex was his favorite combination. He lapped the wound again, before lifting his head and looking down into her eyes.

"Do it again." He demanded.

"Please, stop." She whimpered under him. He looked down at her.

"Give me the Glow, girly."

She looked up at him, confusion written on her face.

"In my head, push the blood, the pain, the fear, the guilt back, until I don't feel it anymore."

"I don't know what you are talking about." He felt her trembling beneath him, smelled her fear, and smelled the blood.

"You did it, tonight, when you asked for help. Do it again." He felt her in his mind, tentatively, pushing back those dark feelings. He felt the relief, the tingle lessen, the clear thoughts in his mind. She was good, better than Birdie ever was. He hadn't needed a telepath, he had needed an empath, and now he had one, a strong one from the feel of it. "Keep it up."

Her touch became stronger, pushing the feelings back, into the darkness of his memories, out of his conscious mind. He felt her, trying to touch sympathy, to get her to let him go.  
"Enough." He put his hand to her throat.

"Don't try to manipulate me, empath, just give me the Glow and you will live." Her fear escalated, causing his arousal to escalate too.

He reached between their bodies, unfastening his pants, and freeing his straining erection. He smelled her fresh fear, and smiled.

"You are mine, I own you, kitten. Don't ever forget it." He stroked her naked body under him, fear driving him on, he brushed the side of her face with his, marking her with his scent, it smelled good with her fear, her blood, and now anger, even better. He wanted her to fight him, wanted her to resist. It made the Glow all the better. He kept his claws sheathed, he didn't want to kill her, and the Glow was too good. He stroked her body, feeling the cuts and scrapes along her skin, the damp trails of blood from the open cuts. He brought his fingers to his lips and let her watch him lick the blood off.

"You taste good, frail. Your blood is sweet." He kept his voice pitched low, quiet, fear he wanted, but not panic, not yet. He wanted her off balance. He let her feel him, hot and throbbing against her stomach, before shifting his hips, letting the tip slip down her folds and right outside her entrance.

"Please, don't do this." She begged. "I will do whatever you want, please."

"Yea, you will." He reached down, teasing her with soft touches, he could smell her, she was fighting it, they all did, but he could smell her body betraying her, he stroked and touched and caressed until he felt the first drops of moisture, and then with a surging thrust impaled her to the bed. She screamed under him, but her face was against his shoulder, and muffled. He growled, low, letting it vibrate all the way down his body, letting her feel it inside her. He smelled and felt the new surge of arousal. He waited; she ran out of breath and stopped screaming. He tangled one of his hands in her hair pulling her head back so he could see her.

"I told you, I own you." He growled it this time, emphasizing it with a thrust of his hips. She just whimpered and closed her eyes. He yanked her hair again, and she opened them. He brushed the side of her face again with his own, marking her with his scent, and then took his face down deeper against her shoulder, pulling almost out, and with a fierce thrust, bit deep into the muscle, all the way to bone, she screamed again, and again he muffled it with his body.

He lapped the bite, drinking in her blood, licking his lips, her whimpers of pain and fear fueling his need. He thrust again, this time slipping his hand between them and stroking her, bringing her arousal to a peak, she was going to hate him for this, but he didn't care. He wanted her to know she belonged to him; her body was his to command, and command he did. He felt her, tight around him; he pulled up, and looked her in the eye. He knew she could see the blood on his mouth, dripping down his chin, landing on her bruised flesh. He watched her eyes dilate, felt the muscles inside her constrict around him, and he almost let go, but no, her body was his to command, but his wasn't hers.

He watched the tears flow out of her eyes, and smiled his best evil smile. He reached down and licked them away, even those were his. He let her body calm down, the aftershocks subside, and then he began to thrust again, deeper, harder, letting his body take what it needed. He roared in his climax, ramming deep, driving his seed into her womb. She screamed in pain, but he didn't care. He pulled out of her, adjusting himself back into his blood soaked jeans. A nice hot bath after a Glow and a good fuck, sounded like the perfect end to a perfect evening to him. She just curled herself into a ball on the bed, and he threw the comforter and sheet over her. He should probably put a bandage over the bite, he wanted it to scar, but didn't want it to get infected. He left the room and came back with a first aid kit. He forced her to roll over, and bandaged the bite. The cut on her side had stopped bleeding, and was scabbing over so he left it.

"Get some sleep frail, your work starts tomorrow." shudder.


	2. Chapter 2

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff. _**VERY VERY VERY VERY DARK MATURE CONTENT. IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE IT DON'T READ**_

_**AGAIN DO NOT READ IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE VIOLENCE AND DARK CONTENT. RAPE AND VIOLENCE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**_

He woke to sunlight streaming into the room; he was lying on his stomach, arms outstretched, naked, on top of the blankets. The room was warm, and he hadn't been this relaxed in years. The Glow, he had the Glow back. He didn't even know her name, but kitten would do. He pushed up and rolled onto his back. God he felt good. He was rested, sated, all the ugly stuff pushed back out of his mind. He was back on the top of his game. He sat up, popping his neck. The new empath was good. Good at the Glow and a good fuck. Killed two birds with one stone last night, and that made him think he made the right decision, saving her.

His stomach growled food…that might be the only thing that could make him feel any better. The kitten was probably hungry too. He went down to the kitchen and cooked breakfast. Lots of eggs, bacon, sausage, toast for the frail. He ate his breakfast and made her a plate. He took it up and opened the door. She was lying there, still curled into a ball. Hell, he hadn't been that rough on her.

"Wake up, kitten, breakfast." He sat on the edge of the bed, and reached out to prod her shoulder. He felt her shudder, and then a surge of rage. She had no reason to be pissed at him, he saved her ass. "Get your ass up, frail. You need ta eat."

She rolled over, her hair was still caked in blood, he could smell himself on her from last night, and she hadn't even cleaned up. He grabbed the comforter and yanked it back. "Food can wait. I don't put up with stench. He picked her up and carried her to the bathroom; he dropped her into the tub and turned on the shower. She sputtered and shook, but he just directed the water until her hair ran clean of blood and he couldn't smell the stench of stale sex. He shut off the water and threw her a towel.

Well that was a little better she was shooting daggers with her eyes.

"Dry off and eat." She looked a little like a drowned kitten, and he laughed. She was cute, her dark hair hanging down into her face, her body soaked wet from the shower. She grabbed the towel, and tried to cover herself from his gaze. He just smirked and pushed her down the hall, back to the guest room.

"There's sweats and stuff in the drawers. Find something that fits." He glared at her, and she opened the drawers, finally pulling out a pair of pants and sweat shirt. She pulled them on over her bruised body. He winced as he watched her move. Maybe he had been a little rough on her last night. She sat on the bed and he handed her the plate of food.

"You need ta eat."

She picked up the fork, her hand shaking. He almost felt sorry for her, but clamped down on it. She wasn't going to manipulate him.

"When you are done there, change the bed. There are sheets in the closet." He snarled at her and she cringed again…"The windows are bullet proof glass; they are blacked out on the inside so you can't scratch it off. The neighbors won't hear you scream, believe me they didn't last night."

He took the plate from her when she stopped eating. She was going to need to eat more than that, but for now it would do. He went out the door and slammed it shut. She could just stew in there for a while. He went out to the garage and got into his SUV. He had some shopping to do if he was having a house guest. First stop was a thrift store, to pick up some clothes for her. She was going to have to earn anything new with the Glow. Then to the grocery store to replenish his kitchen and a final stop to gas up the car and make sure there was no sign of blood from his hit. There were flowers at the counter of the gas station and he almost bought her one, and then growled. She wasn't going to manipulate him into being nice. HE wasn't fucking nice.

He pulled into the driveway in a full snit; he opened the back of the car and pulled the bags out. She was going to play mind games; well she could just go hungry for a while. He told her not to fucking manipulate him. He grew angrier as he went into the house; he wanted to wring her empathic little neck. NO, if he did that, he'd lose the Glow. He was going to have to think of some punishment, sex was part of the Glow, that wouldn't work. Maybe…he was going to have to think about this.

He wanted to grind his hips against her, giving her as much pain as he could. He wanted to dig his claws deep into her stomach, rip out something important. He needed the Glow again damn it… He dropped the bags from the grocery store and took the stairs two at a time. He slammed the door open, she was curled on the floor of the room, in a corner…and he felt a little pang of sympathy. He should just leave her alone; it had been a rough day, rough night for her, but the rage just wouldn't go away. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet. He threw her onto the bed, and against the headboard with a sickening crack…she lay there dazed, and he stalked up the bed, until he was looking her in the eye.

"I told you, don't try to manipulate me, bitch. NOW give me the GLOW." He felt it, pushing the rage, the pain, the fear, the memories back, out of his conscious mind, clearing his mind, making thought easier, without the red haze in his eyes. He looked down at her and grinned. His mind was clear, and he could see that she wasn't hurt, not that badly. He didn't smell anything that required medical attention anyway, so she should be good for a fuck.

He let his claws extend and ripped the sweats off of her body. There was no fresh blood to drive him on, but his body was already demanding a release. He reached down, and unfastened his jeans. That was all he needed, she was for the Glow, for a fuck, he didn't need to get naked, just get release. He pushed into her, feeling her tear, her blood providing some lubrication, he didn't care, and he was going to take his release in her body, ready or not. He thrust deep, grinding against her hip bones as he buried himself hilt deep inside. He pulled out for another thrust, the smell of fresh blood egging him on, and he thrust deep again. He didn't even bother with trying to arouse her. She was going to learn not to manipulate him, and if it took pain to teach her then pain it would be.

He reached a satisfying rhythm and continued until he roared his climax and poured his seed inside her. If she got pregnant, that was her problem, wasn't it. He pulled out and wiped himself of with the shreds of her clothes. She hadn't made a sound, not even a whimper, but he didn't care, she would scream for him again, and if she didn't, well frails were annoying; a quiet one wouldn't hurt his feelings. He fastened his pants and left the room, closing the door behind him. He went to the car and grabbed the bag from the thrift store. He carried it back upstairs and threw it at her on the bed.

"Get dressed." He slammed the door as he went back out. He stormed back down to the kitchen and put the groceries away. He looked at the plate from earlier. She had hardly eaten anything. He knew he should fix some lunch; she was going to need her energy, especially if he was going to need the Glow every day. She was such a tiny thing, and he knew she had to be in pain, especially now. He was beginning to feel something strange for him, guilt. He snarled and went back up the stairs, but she was unconscious. It couldn't be her, he was feeling guilty. SHIT!

DAMNED frail had him feeling GUILTY for a little GLOW. He went back down to the kitchen and turned on his computer. He needed to work, something to distract him from the frail. He had a simple job offer nearby, he wouldn't even have to be gone overnight. It was a quick kill, fifty grand, and the man had a wife and daughter that would be bonuses.

He went back upstairs to check on her, but she hadn't moved. He locked the bedroom door and went to his room to pack a work bag. Clean shirt, wipes, a towel, hairbrush, ties, flashlight all went into the bag. He went out the front door and waved at his neighbor across the street, throwing his bag in the back of the SUV. The woman was inane and stupid but he used her as an alibi when needed, he made sure she saw him leave and come back. It made it easier to set timelines if he had a reliable busybody neighbor.

The mark lived less than twenty miles from his house, so he would have to be careful that no one recognized him. Again, easy, he parked the SUV at a local mall, and then made sure the cameras caught him going inside. He roamed the mall a while, and then slipped into one of the maintenance entrances. He slipped out of the mall, and made his way quickly to the mark's house.

The daughter was home, working on homework in an upstairs bedroom, the wife was cooking dinner, but the mark wasn't there yet. He waited, patiently, until the man pulled into the driveway. He had already scouted the house and knew exactly which room he was going to use. The house was set back from the street with a private master that couldn't be seen from any other houses on the street. He slipped quietly into the bedroom and waited.

First the mark came into the room. Victor grabbed him by the throat and told him to call the others into the room. He dug his claws into the sides of the man's neck, just enough to let him know he meant business. He called the wife first, and Victor just growled at her, and she fainted. The daughter came in next and almost managed a scream, but he hit the man over the head, and grabbed her before she could get more than a slight moan out of her mouth.

Ties came out of the bag and all three were bound and thrown onto the large king sized bed. He carefully cut the clothing off of the wife and daughter. He was going to have some fun with them BEFORE he killed the mark…the red haze was coming back, he was going to enjoy this, but he was going to need the Glow when he got home.

The mark started moving, coming around. He slipped out of his clothes; he was fully aroused, and wanted the man to see it. The man woke up, and Victor could smell the fear rolling off of him. He gave the man a good grin, showing his fangs, and then grabbed the girl by her hair. She was just starting to stir, and he wanted her tears, her fear, and her muffled screams through the gag. She moaned against the gag and he pushed her face first down on the bed, ramming himself into her, laughing when he felt her barrier rend under him. He dug his claws into her hips, holding her in place while he ground his body into her. He could smell her pain, her tears, and her fear and was reveling in it. The mother woke up just in time to hear his roar of satisfaction as he spilled himself into her virginal daughter. Her screams and cries joined the girls and created an erotic haze in his brain. He clawed the girl, his erection restored by her mother's reaction and pumped into her again. He gave the woman a grin that told her she was next.

The girl died quickly, bled out under him, but he was far from satisfied, he grabbed the woman and started in on her. She lasted longer, tried to fight him, tried to stop him, but that only encouraged him. Finally he reached around, ripping her throat out as he reached his climax, her death throes bringing him off. The man just sat there, his eyes dilated in fear, sitting in a pool of his own piss on the bed. He cleaned himself off, and then slowly began to skin the mark alive. He took his time, before allowing the man to die. He went into the bathroom and took a shower. He didn't care if the police picked up anything. There would be nothing that would link it to him, especially after he finished burning the house to the ground. He dressed and pulled out his cell phone. He took pictures of the scene for the client, and slipped out of the house, the device he had planted under the bed set to go off as soon as he activated the email function on his cell phone. He sent the email with the pictures to the client and the house behind him exploded into a raging fireball.

Yep he would need a good Glow when he got home. He just hoped she would be up to it. He could wait until morning; let the poor woman get some sleep first.


	3. Chapter 3

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff.

**_CLEARLY WARNING MATURE CONTENT RAPE VIOLENCE PLEASE DON'T READ UNLESS YOU CAN HANDLE IT_**

**_LAST WARNING...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DON'T READ IF YOU CAN'T HANDLE VIOLENCE AND RAPE_**

He pulled into the driveway, bags from the mall in hand. He waved to his neighbor and walked into the house. He had felt good, after the kill, almost Glow good. He had even bought her new clothes, because he knew he didn't need the Glow all the time, and she would keep the lusts at bay. He wanted to reward her, for a job well done. His reward would come later, hell he might actually take her to his room, spend some real time with her, and even get his clothes off before he fucked her. She'd earned it.

He walked in the front door, his high carrying him into the kitchen before the wave of rage hit him. WHAT the FUCK!? He didn't have any reason for this. This rage, it wasn't him. It felt like him, felt like when he needed the Glow, but it wasn't. He could feel the difference. It was her. She wanted him angry…he could almost step outside himself and watch her do it, watch her try to push him into a murderous rage. The bitch was trying to manipulate him, but to do what.

She didn't know, didn't know just how closely he monitored his own emotions. Too many years of paranoia, of experimentation, of remembering every fucking thing that had ever been done to him had taught him a valuable lesson…don't take anything for granted. She wanted him angry…Why?

Anger he knew, it was his friend, his constant companion, he had complete control over his anger, even with her pushing him, he was the one in control. She wanted him angry, she'd get him angry. But not until he knew what she wanted.

She didn't understand. Pushing him that hard, pushing him to the point of blind rage didn't bring out the beast, it made him think, made him cold, it brought out the worst in the human part of him. She had awakened the part that could smile while slitting a cub's throat in front of its mother, so the blood sprayed on her face; the part that planned; the part that was meticulous in detail, and always, always knew exactly what its next move would be.

She was still lying on the bed, hadn't moved. He could hear her heart beating; hear her breathing so she wasn't dead. Her eyes were closed, her face bruised from the attack he had saved her from, her body bruised from them, and from him. He felt a small surge of guilt. He almost slapped her for it, but he realized it wasn't HER, it was him. HE was feeling guilty. It wasn't a common emotion for him but it was his own, not something manipulated by her.

"I know what you are doing, and it isn't going to work." He said it calmly from the door. She didn't move, didn't look over at him but he felt the rage subside. He pulled the door closed and left her; she needed to rest, needed to recover from what she had been through. HE could wait. He wasn't entirely certain what she was up to, but suicide by VICTOR wasn't on his agenda.

He cleaned up from the kill, and went back downstairs. He grabbed a beer and went to watch some television. He had no plans and was in no rush. She would heal, and when she did, he would get to the bottom of this death wish of hers. Damned bitch wasn't going to control him.

The fire was on the news, the bodies were burned past recognition, and they were going to have to use dental records to identify them. He just grinned, another job well done. His body was relaxed, and so was his mind. When she wasn't trying to control him, her Glow lasted a good long while.

The sun was down and it had been a good day. He went upstairs and ran a hot bath for a soak, before checking on his 'guest,' she was still laying on the bed, but she had moved, gotten dressed. He set a napkin with some slices of pizza on it on the dresser. He wasn't going to give her anything she could use to hurt herself.

His bath was hot, relaxing and he leaned back. He closed his eyes letting the heat drain the residual anger and tension from his body. She was leaving him alone, letting him relax, maybe the frail was learning.

_He walked into the door, the cub was squalling in the wooden cradle he had made for him. She was no where to be seen. He walked to the cradle, the cub was filthy. He grabbed a cloth to clean him up, and that was when the smell hit him. She was there, alright. He could hear them now, rutting in HIS bed, the bed he had made for them. Damned frail, damn her to HELL her and the fucking cub, was he even his. He couldn't tell. He was a human, not like him, but that didn't mean anything, the cub could still be his._

_He picked it up by its filthy night shirt, not even touching its skin. It wasn't even a person just a squalling noisy weapon to use against the bitch. He walked into the bedroom. She hadn't even undressed, her skirts were flung up over her waist and her lover was holding her down on the bed. He reached out, grabbing the man by his throat and ripping it out. _

_She screamed…then turned and saw him._

_"Victor, thank God…" He wasn't dealing with her lies. He slapped her hard, claws out across her face, four jagged cuts exposing her cheekbone under her eye._

_"NO!!!! VICTOR…" He held up the cub, a cold smile on his face and without a word, slashed his claws across its throat. The blood sprayed across her face, and only her silent tears washed any of it away. He still didn't say a word, just reached out, cutting through her layers of clothing, the bone corset he had bought her, and ripped her gut open. He left her there, with the cub's lifeless body, bleeding out on the bed. _

He started awake. SHIT! He hadn't thought about that in years. He had found out later, much later that she hadn't been lying. There had actually been three men, they had all raped her, and the third one was the one he had killed. The others had already left to go get a drink after using his woman. He had found them…and killed them, but HER death and the cub could still bring waves of guilt and grief after nearly one hundred years.

The water was stone cold around him, and he stood up, grabbing a towel. FUCK! He pulled back from his emotions but she wasn't there, wasn't twisting things. It had to have been the kill today, something about it triggered the old memory, maybe it was the Glow, when he was clear, and sometimes the old regrets haunted him.

He climbed into the bed, hoping sleep would be quick and without old memories to haunt him. Every time he closed his eyes tonight he saw the cub, and her on the bed he made her…and his heart ached. He had had a chance, at something normal, and he had destroyed it, just like he destroyed everything in his path. DAMNED empath…now he was second guessing everything, every emotion; he would get her trained, and in time, she'd be another Birdy, companion, lover, and assistant. It would just take time to break her in. He finally drifted off to a dreamless sleep.


	4. Author Exposition

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff.

A/N I am doing this, for explanation for those who are NOT familiar with the comics and the whole Birdy/Victor dynamic. Birdy was a telepath that was able to go into Victor's mind and memories and to set up almost memory blocks that allowed him to not have to deal with the dark memories from his past, the memories that cause him pain, cause him to feel 'frail' emotions like guilt and remorse. This memory control was accompanied by a psionic blast that basically gave him the same effect as Cocaine, cleared his mind and gave him an upper boost. Usually the 'glow' was after a kill and usually before sexual release. Birdy was a VOLUNTARY participant in this, until she got tired of being abused by Victor and betrayed him. Birdy was killed while he was still addicted to the "glow" (his term) that she created. He went to Xavier's hoping the telepaths there could help him either overcome the addiction, or provide the glow. He was in a battle with Wolverine, in which Wolverine shoved his claws up into Victor's brain, nearly killing him and permanently damaging the telepathic receptors in his brain. This not only healed his dependence on the Glow but also made it nearly impossible to track him using telepathy.

The difference between the telepathic Glow and the empathic Glow that he is now receiving is simple. Instead of pushing back and locking away the memories, the empath deals directly with the emotions which will actually allow Victor to look at some of the darker memories without the overwhelming bloodlust those they usually cause. She is able to control the emotions involved instead of the thoughts. By being able to not only basically control what emotions are associated with each memory and how those emotions interact with his more "normal" emotions she has the _**capability**_ of allowing some of his darker memories to surface (this has already started happening) without the overwhelming rage which would send him into a killing spree.

Enjoy…if you can, the dark ugliness that is Victor Creed's mind as he deals with the memories he has suppressed, the dark ugly twisted world that he creates, and the true creator of that world, his new empath.


	5. Chapter 4

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff. I am stressing this very clearly I**_F YOU CAN'T HANDLE MATURE VICTOR CREED CONTENT PLEASE DON'T READ AGAIN_**

Last warning,** IF you can't handle MATURE content DO NOT READ**

Chapter 4

_He was bleeding from his mouth and finger tips. They were standing over him, branding irons, whips, canes, fists, and the worst was the old priest from town. _

_"In the name of God, His Holy Son, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit I command you demon be gone." The old man hit him again with the cane, raising welts across his back that bled._

_"You must keep removing the mark of the demons. It is the only way to save his soul." He heard the old man tell his father. He knew it would be the same tomorrow, and the next day, just as it had been for years._

_"Now leave us to do God's work." The old man told his father, and he knew the part he dreaded was coming. First the brands, that never stayed, then the whips, then the cane again, and finally the old man would hold him down, knowing his claws and fangs were not grown back, and the priest would use his own body to try to pound the demon out of him. There were times he wished he would die, the shame, the pain was almost unbearable. Someday, when he was free of this dark place, free to get his revenge, he would return the favors tenfold. He learned almost everything he knew about pain from that old priest._

_Finally the old man left, and he curled up on the floor, drying blood down the insides of his thighs, down his back. He knew there would be no food. He was starving. He couldn't remember the last time his mother had snuck food down for him. He knew it had been days but the pain all made it blur._

_The door above opened and his father stood there._

_"Well, if ya are an animal, guess ya can start actin like one. If ya are hungry, yu're are goin ta have ta kill it yu'rself." He threw a soft white bundle down the stairs and into the cellar. It was a rabbit. _

_"I ain't no stinkin animal." He snarled up at the man he hated most in the world._

_"That ain't what the Father says. If'n yu're hungry, there's all the food yu're gettin." He slammed the door shut, casting the boy back into darkness. He could hear the rabbit's heart beating in fear as it crept closer to him. He reached out, already with the speed of a predator, snatching the small rodent and snapping its neck. He felt the small body growing cooler in his hands, and with his newly grown fangs, ripped through the fur and skin and began to tear the raw meat from its bones._

He started awake, sweat cooling on his skin. He hadn't dreamed about that in years. He HATED the old man, hated the priest worse, and had killed them both with great pleasure. The thing he had regretted, the thing that still haunted him was the rabbit cooling in his hands. To this day he wouldn't hunt or kill rabbits.

This had been going on for days. She still hadn't said a word, still just stared at the wall. He hadn't needed her to push back the bloodlust, so he had left her alone to heal. She was still not eating much, but she was eating so he wasn't pushing the issue too far. She would come around, frails always did.

He climbed out of the sweat soaked sheets, and opened the closet. He laid out clothes on the bed, clean slacks, a nice shirt, his comfortable loafers, he wasn't working today, well he was working, but not on a mark. He had some trades he wanted to check on, look into his investment accounts. He might go into the city and actually go to his office. He could actually look at numbers without cringing; another nice side effect of her Glow, his analytical brain was working better, and he was able to actually concentrate and enjoy working with numbers again.

He stepped into the shower, the hot water rinsing the dried sweat and tears from his body. Days…he had been reliving the nightmare of his life for days. Nina and the baby, his early days in his father's cellar, SilverFox and the Runt, Birdy; all of his regrets, all of his mistakes, all of his sorrows were haunting him. He wondered if she was causing this, but if she was, it was letting him deal with it.

He was feeling stronger, more in control of his own mind. He wasn't sure if it was the Glow, or something else. He reached out and turned off the water. He felt the wave of rage trying to crash over him and pushed it back. SHE was awake, and testing what he would do.

He dressed slowly, taking the time to actually use a blow dryer and pull his hair back in a tie. He finally slipped his feet into the loafers and went downstairs. She could wait. He'd deal with her, soon; but first he wanted breakfast.

He realized he was in a GOOD mood. He was humming in the kitchen as he cooked. It was when he flipped the omelet that he realized it. He was trying to place the song as he piled up his own omelet but couldn't place the tune. It was old, like him, something he hadn't heard in years. He couldn't remember the name of the song, but Nina had liked it.

They needed to talk and breakfast seemed like a good time to do so. He set the table, and then walked up the stairs to the door of the guest room. He actually knocked before opening the door. He heard a slight scramble, and then he turned the knob.

She was dressed, a simple T shirt and long skirt. Her hair was brushed. It was a strange color, he had never seen hair like that before, it was lighter in the front, a mixture of blonde and red, and then darker in the back. He knew it was natural, and couldn't wait until she grew it out. He wanted to feel it wrapped around him…he pushed that thought away. She wasn't anywhere near that point yet. He noticed the bruising on her face was fading to a yellow. Once she was healed she would even be pretty.

"Breakfast is downstairs. Let's go." He said it softly, stepping outside of the door, and waiting for her to follow. She just looked at him, dumbfounded.

"Move, frail." He snarled, showing his fangs.

He could smell her fear as she walked out the door, and down the stairs in front of him. She walked to the table and sat down. He sat in the chair opposite her.

"Eat." He said it softly again, more a request than a command.

"Why?" He almost didn't hear her.

"Why what?" There were a lot of answers to that question.

"Why did you bring me here?"

"The Glow."

"But, why?"

"You tell me. You are the empath." He stuffed a bite of omelet into his mouth, daring her with his eyes to say something.

"I don't know." She turned her face to her plate. She ate in small bites, not even a quarter of the omelet gone. "You ran the men off, brought me here, why?"

"You called for help. For the first time since…in a long time, my head was clear. You pushed it all back and I could THINK. I could plan and not let my instincts be in control. I wasn't going to lose out on having that as a regular thing. That's why you are here. That's why you aren't dead."

"You would have just killed me if I couldn't do that?"

"Darlin' I never would have entered that alley. I don't need a fucking frail around messing things up, unless they are useful. And YOU are useful. I still ain't quite sure what you have done, but it's helping, and lasting."

"Why won't you just kill me?" The words were whispered.

"Why?"

"Do you think I went walking in that neighborhood for my health? Do you know what it is like to feel the emotions of hundreds of thousands of people at a time, and not know which ones are yours and which ones are theirs?" There were tears in her eyes, and a sudden realization on her face. "I can only feel …you…how?"

"I don't know. Well I do, sort of. I had this house shielded against telepaths years ago, before…well before I didn't have to worry about them anymore." He stood up and scraped his plate.

"You can do that?" The surprise in her voice was evident.

"Where'd you get your training, kid?"

"Nowhere."

Shit she was UNTRAINED and that powerful, he had really made a lucky find. He wondered if he could get Emma or one of the other paths over to get her trained, once she got used to the idea that she belonged to him.

"I can't keep calling you kid, or darlin'. You got something I can call ya?"

"Chara…" She pronounced it Kara, in a whisper.

"That your name?"

"Sort of, it's my middle name; how long are you going to keep me here?"

"'Til I'm done with ya, or till ya can't give me the Glow anymore."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, I didn't exactly plan this. Kill ya, probably."

"Kill me?"

"It's what I do. Get used to it – to me, Chara, you will be here a long time. I will put up with a lot of shit, you do what I want ya ta do and you will live a good long time. Hell, my last 'path lived with me for I don't know, five – six years, before she was killed."

"Killed…did you…?"

"No. I was goin ta, but someone beat me to it. She betrayed me…take a lesson from that." He was leaning on the kitchen counter, watching her. She had actually almost finished the omelet. He watched her thinking – he was waiting for a response, a rebellion. He didn't expect her to take this lying down, he sure as hell wouldn't.

"Will you…do you…?" She was blushing.

"Yea…it's part of the Glow." He knew he didn't have to be rough with her, but she didn't know that - not yet.

"Why? If I push the emotions back, take them away, 'clear your head,' why do you have to do … that?"

"You have a problem with a good fuck?" He grinned at her, fangs flashing.

"YES!"

"Why?"

"It hurt." She whispered it.

"Again, you'll get used to it. It'd be wise if you forgot about your old life. It'll make this much easier." He was getting frustrated with her. She was just going to have to adapt.

"I don't…have anything to go back to." He heard the ache in her voice.

"Well, then that's a good thing. This ain't a bad life – you'll get ta see the world - eventually. When I can trust ya, I ain't that bad ta live with, but 'till I'm sure I can you stay in the guest room. You come out when I let ya, and ya give me the Glow when I need it. Try to escape, try to get help, try ta get away in any way shape or form and you will regret it."

"Get away?"

"You ain't dyin on me, and I ain't killin ya. I can make your life completely miserable – believe me. The sooner you quit your little manipulation games, the sooner we can get a good workin relationship goin."

She stood up and handed him her plate, her head bowed. For a second he thought he saw a smile on her face, but on second glance, she just looked scared. Scared was good, scared he could control.

"I'll bring ya lunch later, get back up the stairs…I'll let ya know if I need ya for anything – and I mean anything." He leered at her. He knew he had to keep her off balance. This had gone far better than he had hoped. He didn't know if she was still in shock, or if she really didn't have anything to go back to and anyone who would be looking for her. He really hoped it was the later. It would make his life so much easier.

He followed her up the stairs. He considered taking her, just for a fuck, but decided against it. She was going to have to come to him for anything that didn't have to do with the Glow. For now…he would wait until he needed the Glow again, he didn't need a fuck that bad.

He opened the door and she walked into the room.

"You read much?" He asked.

"Yes."

"I don't have a lot…you read those Harry Potter things yet?"

"No…I couldn't get into them…"

"I'll bring 'em to ya…they're decent ta read. Kinda funny…" She gave him a strange look. "I ain't and idiot…I ain't stupid…I am older than dirt, and know every trick under the sun, that don't mean I want ya miserable. Hell, what I want is your cooperation, I am willing ta bend a bit for that, if you are."

"Sure…I don't have anything else to do…"

He closed the door. The books were in his room. He grabbed the first couple and went back, opened the door and dropped them on the dresser. She just looked at him as he closed the door. He could still smell her fear…and anger…she wasn't projecting, wasn't trying to make him feel it or manipulate him, she was learning…she was learning.


	6. Chapter 5

GLOW!

I don't own him, I don't want him, ok maybe I do but not when he makes me do stuff like this…sheish, four o'clock in the morning and this is what had to wake me up…by him I mean Victor Creed, and ownership belongs to Marvel and all associated film makers.

Ugly dark Victor Creed Sabertooth stuff. _**AGAIN IF you can't handle VIOLENCE, RAPE, and other intensely Victor Creed issues DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER!**_

A/N Thank you Erisah and Takerslady.

Erisah - that review was the BOMB...and yes I will be going more into Chara's mental state...This is all from Vic's pov so it will be a little difficult to get it worked in...he really doesn't GIVE A SHIT!

Takerslady - Your reactions were wonderful. This isn't supposed to be in any way shape or form NICE! There will be more flashbacks. I am in heavy research at the moment on different backgrounds for Victor...it will come to light...eventually.

Chapter 5

It had been a bad week. First two jobs went south, the first one, a mob hit, they were ready for him. He had managed to get out, and take out the mark, but not without more collateral damage than the client wanted…and they made sure he only took half the money for it. The other had been a trap. Xavier had wanted to talk to him.

They had picked up Chara, on Cerebro, before he got to her, he was actually grateful to the Runt…now that Xavier and his other pet paths couldn't read him, he could lie all he wanted, and they had to believe him…or not. They had followed him most of the week, and he had made sure there was no sign of Chara at the house. She hadn't been happy, being locked up, but happy wasn't his problem. They had finally stopped following him, even the Runt moving on to something else.

His anger and frustration at the weeks events combined with the dreams was building, he knew he would need her Glow and soon, but something was holding him back, something about the dreams…it was almost as if there were a clue there, something he NEEDED, so he held off, held back, let his mind relive his past.

He was lying back in the tub, the hot water sloshing around as he twisted, trying to get comfortable. His last couple baths had been quite interesting…remembering Silver Fox, the taste of her blood, the feel of her body struggling under him as he thrust deeper and deeper, the anguished cries of the Runt when he found her body, the intense satisfaction of pounding him into the muddy street, taunting him about what a good fuck his woman had been. The memory had been so intense that his orgasm had surprised him. He rarely allowed himself private release.

He closed his eyes, wondering what memory would cross his mind tonight. As frustrated and angry as he was, he hoped it would be something pleasant…Fox again…one of his battles with the Runt, maybe even that time in Germany when they were fucking the same woman, the one that betrayed them…He let his mind drift, the lapping of the water on the side of the tub almost hypnotic.

_He watched from the edge of the woods. The camp was quiet. He'd been living in the woods for years, since the death of his parents. He didn't know if they were still looking for him or not, but even he was growing lonely for human companionship. There had been a notice, back in the last town, when he was stealing supplies. The railroad was hiring men to lay lines. Good pay, a place to sleep, and all the booze a man could want. He looked down at his thin arms and legs; he was wiry, stronger than he looked. Living in the wild didn't build a whole lot of muscle, but what it did build was strong. He waited until a couple hours after dawn, and then made his way down to the road. A job might not be a bad idea._

_"You don't look like you can handle much, boy." Said the camp foreman._

_"I'm stronger than I look. I can hunt, and track, I can handle a sledge, and I ain't afraid of hard work." The man looked him over again._

_"Alright…we lost three men yesterday and I am short handed. You go in with Stevens and Towers." He pointed to a tent near the end of the row._

_His hands trembled as he picked up his meager bag. Something about the man's eyes reminded him of the old priest. Well, that old bugger had ended up gutted, so would the foreman if he didn't watch it. He grinned to himself, careful to keep his fangs covered by his lips. Some work, some cash, and maybe, just maybe a way out of this God forsaken wilderness._

_The first day and night had been hell. The work was backbreaking, grueling, and the night was worse. His tent mates had gotten drunk, which didn't bother him. He had lain down in his bunk, just wanting to rest, his muscles weren't used to this type of work, he could feel them adjusting, he'd be fine in the morning. He had awakened to them holding him down, face first on the bunk; they didn't know he would recognize their scents._

_"Just be still, little boy, you'll get used ta it." One of them hissed as he thrust into him. He wanted to snarl - to growl- to bite- to rend, but there were just too many of them. When they were done, one of them patted him on the head and whispered…"That was fun, boy…see you tomorrow."_

_He endured…over one year of their torments, as they dropped one by one, the foreman thought it was the animals, bears in particular, that got them. Their bodies were mauled…very little left to identify them. Finally, there were only two left alive…the two he left for last; the first - and the last._

_His body had changed during the year; the heavy work had caused him to build up, his bones stretching, until he towered over most of the men in camp. Within months they had begun to fear him, and now…now no one bothered him. He had his own tent, and NO ONE entered it…EVER. Of the two men left, only one was in camp anymore. The other had left. He'd track him; he could take years to track him. One thing he had learned in camp, he couldn't get hurt, he couldn't die. He had all the time in the world for revenge._

_Stevens was a disappointment. The fight was over too quickly, the corpse lying at his feet. He had wanted MORE, more blood – more pain. Instead it was over in a drunken brawl. He collected his final check, leaving the foreman gurgling in his own blood, and disappeared into the woods. There was still one left. He could make that one last._

He shook himself awake. DAMN! He shuddered. Why had he remembered THAT; of all of his memories, that one drove him to pure blood rage. The last man had died of natural causes before he had found him. He had been cheated all the way around on that particular event. He searched his mind for signs that she had been there, that she had made him remember it, but as always, there was nothing.

FUCK! He definitely needed the Glow. He lifted himself out of the bath, and grabbed a towel He hadn't touched her since their talk, he hadn't needed the Glow, even with all the disappointments of the week, but now, well she was just going to give it to him.

She was asleep, wearing just a T-shirt. He stood in the door, letting the light shine on her, until she began to stir. She opened her eyes and gave a startled squeal.

"What do you want?"

"That's a little demanding, don't you think." He said.

"You startled me…"

"What do you think I want?"

"No…please…I'll do what you want – in your head, but please, not that…not again."

"I told you…its part of it." Maybe he had made a mistake, leaving her alone this long. She'd gotten too comfortable, forgotten who was really in charge. He pushed off the door jam with his shoulder, walking into the room with a deliberate grace.

"I'm givin' ya a choice. The easy way - or the hard way."

"Please…" She cowered against the headboard of the bed, drawing her legs up against her chest, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. He watched her, smelled her fear – her anger building. She was going to choose the easy way, he could tell. He hated actually having to coax a frail, rape was so much easier.

He felt her in his mind, pushing back the rage, the tinge of red across his vision. He felt the cool peace of clear thought brush through. She didn't have to send a bolt through his brain. She just triggered the good stuff; let his body enjoy the feelings. Already he was erect, needing her body under his. He stalked up from the end of the bed, grabbing her ankles and pulling her under him.

"Easy…or hard?" He whispered, licking the tear tracks from her face. The salty tang just goaded him on.

"Please…" She whispered again, as he probed her opening with his finger. She might not think she wanted it, but her body told a different story. He eased his weight between her legs, not even bothering to remove her T-shirt; all he wanted was a fuck.

"Last chance…" He grinned at her, her eyes dilated in fear. He licked her neck, the taste of her sweat and tears sweet on his tongue.

"Don't do this…I can keep the emotions at bay without this. Please…" He felt her tense, her body trying to draw away from him as his hips began to surge forward.

"Easy it is." He thrust forward, pinning her down, her body tense, the scent of her fear and anger burning in his nostrils. She wanted him to stop, wanted the pain to end. He grabbed her throat.

"DON'T…I don't give a shit about your pain, girly…don't make me feel it. If you'd fuckin relax, it wouldn't hurt as bad, but it don't bother me. Rough is how I like it." He thrust again, moaning with the friction. She was tight and wet, her body halfway aroused. He reached between them, teasing her body bringing it closer and closer to a peak. She might not want this, but her body did.

He knew the moment her mind let go, her body took over, she started meeting him thrust for thrust, her whimpers turned to moans, her scent of arousal became sharper, and she began to clench around him. He buried his head in her shoulder, her scent driving him closer and closer to his climax. Anger fear and arousal was his favorite combination of scents, the only thing that would make it sweeter was blood, but not tonight. He wanted her to know…to understand, her body was his, to enjoy, and to control. He felt her climax, her body shuddering, her muscles clenching, and then as she relaxed, her tears began to flow.

"So sweet…" he muttered as he licked the fresh tears from her face. He felt every sob, every shudder of her body, and they aroused him more, but he wasn't ready, not by a long shot. "Oh, girlie…you feel so good." He moaned against her ear, his body thrusting again, deeper, her body adjusting to his, allowing his deeper penetration.

She moaned again, and suddenly he felt her in his mind again. He stopped, and glared at her. "I said quit."

"I can't…please…I don't want this, but I can't stop it…please, stop – please."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Let you feel what I am…it makes it more intense."

"Then do it…just don't fuck around in there." He thrust deep again, and he suddenly was feeling his own sensations and hers. She was right, it was more intense. He couldn't stop himself, and the sensation she shared, of his orgasm inside her and the climax it caused in her nearly made him black out.

"Damn…darlin' that was somethin." He whispered against her ear. He could smell the tears again, and this time he knew it wasn't pain.

"Enough. You were told this was how it would be, it's not like you weren't warned." He pulled out, and pushed up on his arms to look down at her. Her face was turned away from him, and he could see fresh tears leaking from under her eyes.

"Just GO…"

"I don't think so, I ain't done…" He licked the tears again, nipping down along her cheek and jaw line. She moaned, as his mouth trailed down her neck, along her shoulder, his claws gently cutting her body out of the shirt. He hadn't planned doing this the hard way, he had only wanted the Glow, a fuck…but now, after that little display, he wanted more.

"Don't do this…"

"You don't tell me what to do, Chara…you do what I say." He whispered against her neck, his new erection ready for another round. "And I say relax…I am goin ta be here a while, a long while."

"Please, I am begging…no more."

"Baby, do you even KNOW what good sex is like…maybe you need an education." He took one nipple in his mouth, her body arching against him.

She hit him, hard, with everything she had, and he understood…she DIDN'T know. All she had known was violence, was pain, he was just the latest in a long line…men who had used her, hurt her, and controlled her. She didn't realize he didn't care.

"Babe, keep that up, you'll be givin me a Glow again…and another good fuck, and since I ain't done with the first one…you'll be in for a very long night."

She backed off, and he began to stroke her body, his lips grazing along her skin, following his hands. He heard her moans, smelled her growing arousal, and knew there wouldn't be any arguments this time. He brought her to climax twice before sliding back inside her. His body was demanding a release, and he didn't give her any quarter. He grinned when she screamed her final release as he allowed himself to reach his climax as well. He collapsed on top of her body, still joined.

"Didn't hurt that time…did it?" He hissed against her neck. She just shook her head.

"Get some sleep, I'm going to." He climbed off of her, and headed out the open door, closing it behind him. He picked up the towel he had left laying on the floor outside her room, and walked into his room. Sleep sounded nice; hopefully dreamless sleep. He collapsed on the bed, closed his eyes and let oblivion take him for a few hours.


	7. Chapter 6

The GLOW!

** A/N Pardon the esoteric ending – but it has always been planned. I have back burred this – so I am posting the ending now, which has been written for months – I may post intervening chapters eventually – however, for now this is done.**

His sleep was dreamless – but not formless. It was as if every experience of his life was cataloged for him, and put in place, all the puzzle pieces fit together and he could see – for the first time his true purpose. He'd always known, he'd stated it many times, but deep down, something always made him question it. Some desire to be something other than what he was – to be better.

He woke freer than he'd been in years, no doubts, no regrets. He went downstairs and fixed breakfast for both of them. She was his – but somehow he doubted he'd ever truly own her. Last night something had happened between them – not just physically, but something else, her power in his mind – accepted freely for what it could give him at the moment somehow fixed whatever was wrong with him. He could feel the rage, touch it, use it, but it no longer consumed him. He had a sudden urge to see her – to thank her for what she'd done.

He took the stairs two at a time. She was up there, waiting, behind that locked door. He wanted to tell her it was done. He had finally understood, he finally knew why he existed. He threw open the door, but the room was empty. The bathroom was as well. There was no sign of her. She couldn't have gotten out, it was impossible. He snarled, and put his fist through the mirror on the dresser. SHE ESCAPED! He had told her, he would track her to the ends of the earth if she tried.

In the shattered mirror he saw a slip of paper lying on the bed. He turned and picked it up. It was folded once, his name on the outside.

_Victor:_

_It is time for me to go. You understand now. You no longer need a keeper of your soul. You truly understand what you are and why. The pain, the anger, the hatred are nothing to fear, they are a part of you. The Glow simply pushed them away. Now you have faced them – faced them and understand._

_There are those who are born to be heroes, to fight the good fight, to be noble and good and righteous. There are those who are born to be their opposite. You are one of those. Without you, they cannot exist. Without them, your pain and anger would destroy you. They give you something to focus on, to concentrate all that energy on. Without your darkness, their light would not shine._

_You call me Chara…that is partially correct. I am Anam Chara to you. Friend of the Soul…but you no longer need me. You finally are free of your demons. Free to be what you are, without regret. If you love, it will be fully, if you hate it will be freely, if you kill, it will be because that is the creature you are._

_Forever:_

_ Anam Chara_


End file.
